


Change Your Way

by PranksterComet



Category: Subarashiki Kono Sekai | The World Ends With You
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Kinda inspired by Dream Drop Distance, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-11
Updated: 2018-09-11
Packaged: 2019-07-10 22:53:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15959288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PranksterComet/pseuds/PranksterComet
Summary: Post-game. When Joshua’s callous facade starts showing cracks, life crumbles. Neku is the one who puts the pieces back together.





	Change Your Way

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Katraa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katraa/gifts).



Joshua knows how this ends. Cleaning up the debris of the Game has made the meetings with the Higher Planes even more boring. This is what he’ll die of—boredom. He texts Sanae during a particularly painful one and gets no answer.

**_“Yoshiya Kiryu. Please stop texting.”_ **

The future of Shibuya is discussed for the umpteenth time. It’s hilarious, the fact that now that the city has just been reborn, now is when the clock ticks closer to midnight.

They tell him he’s on probation for the time being. That they have decided to observe before giving him any task.

He sighs and daydreams about red hair and blue eyes.

He’d play this game but against the Higher Planes’ reassurance that things will turn out for the best, he doesn’t need clairvoyance to know that it ends in pitch darkness for him. Might as well enjoy the ride while it lasts, because there’s nothing else to do, not when the only thing helping tether Shibuya into existence—tether him—is adorably oblivious to it all.

Might as well return Neku’s last entry fee and pay him a visit.

 

* * *

 

“I’m glad you’re here, you idiot,” Neku mumbles, voice muffled against Joshua’s chest, fists balled around the collar of Joshua’s shirt.

Joshua’s leaning forward, saying something about ruining the fabric, while Shiki, Beat and Rhyme are stunned into silence and then into frantic murmuring between them.

The sunset’s rays fall through Sunshine Stationside’s window right on the lot of them. On Joshua, still as a rock and on Neku, half sitting on the edge of his seat, half collapsed against him. On his friends, slowly gathering their stuff and making a move to get out of there.

He feels Shiki tap his shoulder so he can move for her to slide out of their booth. “Neku... It’s getting kind of late. I’m going home early tonight, if that’s okay.”

“Yeah, we should be callin’ it a day. See ya around, Phones,” Beat says.

“Take care, Neku, all right?” Rhyme’s voice is uneasy, but her gaze is level and kind.

Neku rubs at his eyes. He knows he’s making a scene, but it’s been four months, four months of waiting at Hachiko’s statue in the cold until midnight; of standing at Udagawa, expecting another life changing catastrophe, until even the cops grew suspicious of him; of talking to himself like a lunatic, every single day, hoping someone would talk back. Of something his friends couldn’t possibly begin to understand, not when he himself can’t. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. It’s just—”

“Don’t worry, we know. You two will have time to catch up now. Bye.” Shiki gives him the warmest smile she can muster, and Beat and Rhyme try to mirror her. With that, they’re gone.

“So, why now? Why _here_?”

“Do I need a reason? Even a God like me can enjoy a burger among the mortals now and then.” Aaaand here we go. Neku resists the urge to pelt him with his half eaten nuggets and soda as Joshua says, sitting across from him, “have you had dessert yet? I happen to be starving.”

Surely enough Neku buys him a full meal. It’s worth it, if only to see his face, to make stupid small talk, to skirt around the tension like they’re a pair of normal, lifelong friends, talking about their day.

From then on Joshua makes his presence known, in his own annoying way. At times it’s a blur of light gray and lilac in the corners of Neku’s vision that is gone when he turns, left to search among the crowds of the Scramble. Other times a giggle not far away as Neku fumbles for his keys after a long day at school. It’s childish and roundabout and creepy, Joshua being Joshua, but it leaves him less on edge than those four months of radio silence after the Game did.

Neku goes sightseeing, sketchbook in hand. Cat Street has been his muse for a while. WildKat is abandoned, same as it’s been since the end of the Game, but Neku hates himself just a little bit less today because, finally, at least one of the two people he’s been missing the most is back.

He takes his place below his favorite tree and lets inspiration hit him alongside the afternoon breeze. His pencil today carries him a bit further from Noise and bat-like wings, to something more celestial, lighter, more gentle and flowing. Flashes of an Eden hiding in the concrete. When he flicks his gaze from the streets to his sketchbook, there’s an image of a weird shadow in the corner, like a writhing splotch of black ink that flashes white—

It’s gone.

“Actually, my wings are a lot more pristine than that.”

Well, hi. “Do you see yourself anywhere in this drawing?” What he saw just now, was that Noise? He draws and his hand trembles, botching an important line. “Let me guess, you have a huge, sparkly dick too.”

Joshua laughs, a lot louder than usual. “Nice Freudian slip. You need help out of that gutter?”

I don’t get you, Neku thinks. Out of a whole city you pick me to play your stupid game, then you disappear for months only to pop up at random, he wants to say. Instead he asks, against a headache blooming behind his eyes, “wanna hang out today? I’ll call the others.”

Stretching, Joshua lounges back against the tree bench. “Neku, I have a job, and it’s been killing me—” Neku groans. Really? This creative already? “—lately. Do you think I’m free to ditch it whenever I want just to go on a date with you?”

“Is that a yes or a no?”

“I’m picking the time and place.”

 

* * *

 

With the A-East Stage a tad crammed for the occasion, Joshua makes sure to ask them all to get there on time.

At first, Shiki and Beat are more than willing to ignore him. They go to absurd lengths to sharply face away from him when Neku’s not there, and when Neku is there they talk through him to address Joshua. Joshua isn’t even mad, since Neku doesn’t stoop that low, so as they all walk around and grab something to eat, the two of them end up standing and walking closer together than they would otherwise.

But when the lights start shifting and the place starts brimming with energy, things change. It’s Shiki who makes the first move. “Thanks for the tickets,” she tells Joshua, point-blank. Her friend Eri agrees and regards him politely, context flying over the poor thing’s head.

The opening band for The Black Mages is Def Märch. Once 777 hits the stage, Joshua savors Neku and Beat’s expressions.

“Hey, wait... Wasn’t he...?”

“Porcupine! He was _gone_ , yo! We couldn’t say goodbye or nothin’.”

A bassline thumps. Def Märch’s sounds ignite the audience. It takes a while for the shock to wear off Neku and Beat, but once it does they sing and jump along.

There’s a fifteen-minute intermission before the main act. Joshua arranged for Sota and Nao to be there too as the kicker, and among the seas of people trickling in and out the venue, the couple manages to bump into Neku. Needless to say, it’s a spectacle.

Nao lights up like a Christmas tree set on fire. “Oh. My. God. Oh my god!” On her tiptoes, she hops and waves for her boyfriend to catch up. “Sota, Sota! It’s Nekky and Josh-Josh!”

“Huh?!” Sota squeezes through the crowd. “Man, color me shocked. You survived!”

“We surv—? I thought you were—? W-wha—?!” Neku sputters, smothered in a double hug.

Joshua carefully avoids being hugged.

“We were, like, _so_ dead! I think? But then we, like, weren’t, and look at us now!”

“I see. Sounds like one exhilarating story.” Joshua nods appreciatively. “Well, Neku. Aren’t you glad? How about you tell them the story of how we survived?” Neku’s eyes are impossibly wide, glued to the couple.

“Uh-huh,” he utters, transfixed, and Joshua slips away to leave them all to their beautiful eloquence.

Shiki and Eri are in the bathroom. Beat and Rhyme sit on a bench on the far side of the Main Hall. Beat is beyond pumped, grinning and air drumming. His mood remains even when he sees Joshua. “Gotta admit, you sure know how ta make up for bein’ an ass, prissy kid.”

Rhyme shifts uncomfortably, soda in hand. “Beat, language...” She offers Joshua a small smile and tells him, “‘cold hands, warm heart’, they say.”

Joshua looks away.

Neku pops up after a while. Joshua feigns surprise when he’s dragged to the balcony to talk.

The autumn wind is cool and crisp. Leaning on the railing, Joshua gives Neku a once-over.

“So, Neku? Why are we here? Are you trying to make me to catch a cold?”

“You brought them back.”

Joshua’s drowning in all those sweet, sweet brownie points. Not that he cares.

“I did what, now?”

“You’re the one who decides who comes back... 777, Sota and Nao... You brought them back to life.”

Joshua closes his eyes, letting the wind play with his hair. “I sure did.”

“You remembered them.”

He can hear all the tiny little gears in Neku’s head whir madly. A plane flies overhead. Down below, the noise of traffic at rush hour. A drunkard who lost his phone, missing steps in the sidewalk.

Neku clears his throat. One, two... “Tell me more about the Game. Please...” Replace “the Game” with “yourself,” and the question would be sincere.

“Hmm...” Joshua’s flattered. “That is not your world for you to worry about. It’s mine. Yours is here, this simple one with your family, your school and your little friends.”

Neku’s inner voice: _Don’t be a jackass. You’re my friend too_. He bites his lip and breathes in shakily. “You know, all this time, there’s one thing I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

His smile and words are honest.

“Thank you, Joshua.”

Silence. Then the headliner starts and the inside of the venue blares to the rhythms. Purposefully slowly, Joshua closes the space between them, placing his hands on the railing behind Neku, trapping him. Neku’s breath hitches, but he has the gall to close his eyes and lean back. He makes things so easy.

A subtle pulse of energy and the railing disappears.

His scream is drowned by the city. It takes five seconds for him to be one inch from the pavement. It’s upwards from there.

“Josh, what the— what the _fuck!?”_ Eyes shut tight, he clings to Joshua’s shoulders.

There’s a sense of freedom, coupled with maybe a tinge of vulnerability, as Joshua spreads his wings big, stretches into his full vibe. "How do you expect to get close to the Composer if you can't handle his power?" He feels Neku’s head throb, feels Neku’s skin burn where they’re touching.

He feels the pain of past gunshots, two raw, hollow gouges, the source of Neku’s nightmares to this day. He feels his urge to sob. “Put me down first and talk to me like a normal _human—”_

“Open your eyes.”

They’re the highest Joshua can reach without choking him to death. Joshua flicks a hand to make a mass of clouds disperse. The moon hangs low in a black sky.

Tokyo's nightscape is a map of stars.

“How many people live on this planet, Neku?”

He grumbles, “7 billion or so.”

“And counting. And yet the average person gets to make the acquaintance of less than one ten millionth of that number in their lifetime. Isn’t it amazing that against all odds, you and I met here, in this micro cosmos of a city?”

He squints, searching for Joshua’s eyes in the glaring light of his form. “Fascinating. Where’re you going with this?”

“I need help.”

“You don’t say.” Joshua lowers his vibe, trying to blend with Neku’s frequency. They bob up and down in the air while Neku’s pain goes down. “Look, the last thing I expected today was this right now. Against my better judgment I thought you could be nice for just one day. It’s been hell, Josh, starting life again right where it left off like it was _nothing_ , like I was on some three-week-long vacation, but you don’t care. Of course you don’t care.”

“Cry me a river. How do you figure you’re the only one having a hard time? Try rebuilding Shibuya’s Underground with half of your staff, no Conductor and a heavily restricted Producer.”

Neku only grasps about half his words. “That’s not my problem. You made your bed with your stupid plan. You’re this unfeeling, bored baby who treats this city like his personal playground. Some Composer.”

They swoop down and fly north past Udagawa’s backstreets, to the limits of Yoyogi before Shinjuku, southeast to Cat Street, all the way down to the bus terminal and around.

With a hand, Joshua traces the perimeter. It lights up in a screen of blue hexagons, reaching as far up as the eye can see. “Then, welcome to the edges of my playground.”

“A wall?”

“My job has its perks. Some of my powers I can use in the Realground as I please. I can visit Planes of existence higher than this one, even travel through time and realities to some extent, and yet I’m confined to just this one space. Unlike normal Reapers, I can’t leave my city. Not under any but the direst of circumstances.”

“Such as...?”

“Being erased, silly. Dear Shibuya and I, we are one, Till Death Do Us Part.”

“You... you’re trapped here? Just like in the Game...”

"Every cliché you've heard is true, Neku. It really is quite lonely up here." The closest to a confession he’s going to ever make.

 _It shouldn’t have to be..._ he hears Neku think while looking down at the landscape, but the thought dies out, just the ghost of a feeling that inspires no further words or actions, and what's the use in that? “Sucks to be you, then. ...Now let’s head down. I wanna go home.”

Having things go exactly the way one expects them to is exhausting.

 

* * *

 

Change happens quickly in a short time.

After lots of searching and even more support from his friends and from Rhyme, Beat gets a job at the Wild Boar in Udagawa. He works under Kyo, folding clothes, cleaning, stacking decks. Despite his brash demeanor, his knowledge and passion for skateboarding make him invaluable. Weeks in, customers flock to the shop like never before, and Beat makes new friends.

Against her protests, his salary is for Rhyme. He wants to spoil her rotten but she urges him to save the money. It goes to her school funds.

It had been so many years, since their parents had talked to him at dinner, asked about his day.

Rhyme does well enough at school to become class president. She writes for the school paper’s poetry section. More than a few of her classmates approach her for advice, about both their schoolwork and their lives. Her teachers are proud, and they nudge her towards a promising future.

And she dreams again.

Shiki and Eri work tirelessly day and night, trading notes and sketches in class, poring over fabrics at lunchtime. They produce an array of designs that boost their online followers up to the tens of thousands. They catch the attention of a couple major figures all around Tokyo, and suddenly they have a contract to be Eiji Oji’s assistant tailor and designer, respectively.

It’s everything they ever wanted, and it gives Shiki the courage to finally confess to Eri one of the two issues she’s been agonizing over.

There’s a contest for a spot to paint a small mural between the edges of Molco and Cadoi City. Neku loses sleep for a week preparing for it. When he enters, he accidentally sends an old portfolio, with more than a few cringe-worthy drawings. He curses for a month straight, missing Mr. H more than ever.

He wins.

As a backdrop to their happiness, though, Shibuya falls apart.

It starts off insidiously, with days that grow shorter, darker sooner. People walking with their heads down and tripping and bumping into each other more than before. Ads in the streets that peel off on their own, dirty and forgotten until they’re finally replaced.

A couple of teens sit on the subway station and gripe.

“Auurgh, why can’t it be the holidays yet? I want out of this town!”

“Right? I’d like to go someplace nice for a change. Akihabara sounds tempting, maybe Kobe... Or even overseas.”

Shibuya runs dry and Neku and his friends exist in a vacuum of good luck, because through it all, their lives have only changed for the best.

Joshua’s disappeared again. Neku reminds himself, every day, that he’s the Composer. That he has a life outside of them.

One day, Neku walks out of Towa Records where he manages to catch him after weeks of trying to reach him through texts.

It’s hard to say why, but something’s very off.

“You look like crap,” Neku blurts.

“My sweet Partner, you’re as pleasant to talk to as ever.”

It’s something he can’t really see, but rather feel. Hear, maybe. A sour note.

“...Where have you been?”

“Just taking care of my beloved city. By the way,” Joshua points to the stack of CDs Neku’s carrying, “it may be hard to properly enjoy those without these, don’t you think?” He walks away and over his shoulder tosses Neku’s long abandoned headphones for him to catch.

His wings.

For a split-second, he sees Joshua’s wings, bones bare and mangled.

 

* * *

 

“Seriously, J, you’re beat. You need a break. Let your new Conductors take it up for you.”

“You think they haven’t done that? Even Kariya is acting mighty serious these days.”

“I worry about you, Josh.”

“You worry about Shibuya.”

The soft sound of water below, the gurgling of swimming fish.

“...You went to such lengths to bring those fellas back, for _him._ I know you already did, but maybe _he_ could...”

“I am never following your advice again.”

“Then let me—”

“From here? Your chains don’t reach that long. And I’d love to dig up our favorite math enthusiast again myself too, but you should be _thankful_ I went through the trouble of scrubbing out your Sigils.” Joshua’s phone beeps. The tracker blinks. “Showtime again. Nice talking to you, always.”

 

* * *

 

Neku wakes up to a buzz in his head. His room sways. It’s dark and cold and smells of electricity.

He’s not alone.

A flash of sky blue light and feathers. He falls off his bed.

“Leave.”

“Did you know that you snore?”

Why is it that he’s there when Neku least wants him to?

“It’s 4 AM. I’m surprised you’re not carrying a gun.” He steadies his breathing, steadies his voice. It’s the nightmares talking, but he’ll be damned if he’ll show how scared he is. He brushes himself up and stands up tall.

Whatever rabbit hole Joshua’s planning to plunge him into, he’s not following, he’s not going to let him have the upper hand, not in his own house, in his own room.

“Ouch. What do take me for? Even I would tire of using the same weapon three times.”

The buzzing comes back, louder. Neku’s ears ring. The taste of metal invades his mouth.

He’s blinded.

Very faintly, he hears Joshua say, “Don’t move.”

In his mind’s eye, they dance and flare. White Noise all over his room. Noise that have apparently been giving Joshua a hard time, because there’s the sound of a struggle. Joshua grunts and they fade in a scream of static.

The nightmares stop for weeks.

Little by little, on and off, Joshua becomes the new normal. Sporadically, at first, randomly waltzing into their group without an invitation, because who needs that when you own the city, when you can stalk people in their rooms at night without consequence?

It doesn’t help that Neku keeps inviting him.

It’s early February. At the girls’—and Josh’s now—insistence, they go to 104. Spring fashion season is here and Neku wants the ground to swallow him.

Beat stands by him on that fact, so the two part ways with the rest for a bit. They make for a run to the nearest restaurant.

Beat isn’t wolfing down his food at his usual speed. Neku fiddles with his straw for a minute before drinking.

“Phones. This’ll shock you but, my folks ‘n Rhyme ‘n me... We been thinkin’ ‘bout movin’.”

Neku chokes on his orange juice. “What?! Where?”

“I dunno. Somewhere in Kyoto...”

“‘Somewhere’? Don’t you think you’re kinda rushing it? You’re not even in college yet! And you're quitting your job just like that?” 

“I’m just tellin’ ya. It’s in the cards. It was my folks who first came up with the idea, tho. Said it was for her sake...”

“...Whatever you end up doing, I’ll be there for you, but I still think you should think it through, seriously.” Neku smirks. “And come on, dude. Who’ll be here to steal half my curry fries if you’re gone?”

“Bwaaaah, you saw?! Here, take ‘em back—”

“Gross, dude! Stop!”

He’s stuck with Joshua on the way home. Still not wearing his headphones, he unconsciously reaches for his ears, feeling naked and awkward with the company.

It’s a cold night. Even with spring around the corner, the temperature has only been going down. Neku closes his eyes for a moment, Joshua’s footsteps guiding him, and concentrates on his surroundings, trying to raise the sounds and movements, the vibrations, into a higher tone. He visualizes Joshua’s wings...

“Neku, eyes on the road. We don’t want you smacking your head against a lamppost, do we?”

He balls up his fists.

They walk past his new mural. He scratches the back of his neck and asks Joshua what he thinks.

"It certainly inspires one not to try to vandalize it any time soon. ...Maybe."

"Wow, thanks. What a thorough critique."

Neku breathes in. And coughs. Beside him, the smell of every perfume Joshua dared douse himself with hangs heavy. He has no idea what the smells are, something ridiculous and fancy like lavender or sandalwood or cinnamon, but it’s way too much.

He’s going to have to wash the smell off his clothes, at this point. “Hey, about the other night at the concert. Thanks for that. Not the throwing me off the building part, but the rest...”

“My pleasure.”

 _I need help,_ the words had wedged themselves into his mind since then. All that talk about Joshua struggling to manage the Game or whatever, that had to have a reason.

Is he waiting for Neku to take the place of everyone he defeated? For Neku to become a Reaper, the Conductor?

...Trapped in Shibuya. That’s certainly how Neku had felt, once upon a time, but the thought is so foreign now, so _wrong_. This place is no cakewalk to live in, but it’s beautiful, it’s full, colorful, vibrant. It’s home and he’s in love with it.

The streets, the warm pavement, the smell of it after rain hits it. The voices, the sounds, the pumping of one song blending into the next and then the next, neon signs and screens blinking, beeping, screaming for the attention. The spark of art overflowing from every corner, an electric city rife with the promise of creation.

The feeling of walking across Scramble Crossing in the middle of a clear night and looking up by accident, between rising buildings, only to see that there is a sky out there with as many stars as there are thoughts, only to realize how tiny you are, how meaningless, how powerful. How (not) alone. Only for the thought to be gone along with the people while you’re left behind, left to catch it, to name it in every breath you take in your whole, short life.

What does Joshua think, about the city that beats around him like a heart?

What does Joshua think about himself?

Along the way, the silence turned amicable. They are so close, steps synchronized, shoulders brushing. Joshua looks at the ground as he walks, a subtle tiredness behind his eyes, but he’s happily swinging his shopping bag like a little kid. It’s Neku’s turn to giggle.

“Just because Shibuya has impenetrable walls doesn’t mean you have to.”

Joshua lilts, “nothing about me is impenetrable. ...And what do you mean?”

But Neku’s train of thought left him some hundred steps ago. “I mean that... if you have something to say, you should be honest with yourself and...” He’s rambling now. “And say it.”

He knows he’s talking to the air. Especially because Joshua’s not the only one he’s talking to.

He doesn’t even notice when they arrive at his own house.

“Right... Here’s our stop. It was wonderful escorting you home today, dear. Ciao.”

“Yeah... See you.” He’s left standing there, the smell of sandalwood and lavender thick all around him.

Today was short.

  

* * *

 

 _Black, white, black, white. Static. The city is consumed in a chorus of light. Darkness paves way to a town with the five of them, the survivors, stuck in the refuge of a dream._ _Again and again, he’s the only one to blame, the real enemy. Somewhere in another world he’s laughing at them all, at the destruction, while they dare call him a **friend** —_

Joshua’s nightmares got stale long ago, so he leaves the coldness of Dead God’s Pad for a change of scenery.

When he arrives, the room isn’t peaceful, but it’s quiet. A sanctuary from the whirlwind of Shibuya.

Brows furrowed, Neku stirs in his sleep. He fights against Noise he can’t see without meaning to.

Joshua gathers the thought into his hand, a command, pressing and urgent. It coils around the room for Neku’s dreams to parse.

 _Leave_.

He presses his forehead to Neku’s, warm against his own icy skin. “I’m sorry.” The face below him softens.

The voices inside them both, the erratic growls and whispers subside. Every reality melds into this one, this moment. The bedside's a pillar. Joshua sits by it and skims along the edges of unconsciousness. For a night, the strength of Neku’s dreams carries him away.

 

* * *

 

Just to know what she thinks, Neku broaches the subject with Shiki when the two of them are in her living room working on projects after school.

“Sorry for dumping Joshua on you guys. Now he won’t leave. Is he—” His stomach is in knots. “—a bother?”

Her sewing machine hums to a stop. “What? Oh no, no, it’s fine, Neku. He’s kind of grown on me. To be honest, he reminds me of you.”

“Huh? How so?”

“Mean and insensitive on the outside, but really a sweetie once you get to know them.”

“A _sweetie_? Freaking _Joshua_!?” (Or himself, even?) He shivers. Leave it to her to throw him for a loop. “Someone needs new glasses.”

“Shut up! Maybe it’s the fact that unlike some people he bothers to _wear nice shoes_ , but it’s like... like you, a spicy tuna roll. You think it will burn you but then you take a bite and it’s not very spicy.”

“Please leave the metaphors to Rhyme,” he says, but his lips quirk up.

“...And hey, he’s the reason we met. He deserves credit for that.”

 

* * *

 

There are exactly one hundred and eight white butterflies spreading out from the Earth, and they shimmer in a sheen of every color imaginable as one walks and the light hits them from different angles. The Earth is a cocoon. It houses a garden, a city and, deep inside it, circled by a river, an underworld, where metamorphosis sprouts from.

In outer space, past a pale blue sky, fire and ice dance around each other. A kaleidoscope of constellations wraps around the universe.

To top it all off, the word “trust,” in big, bold letters, smack in the middle of it all.

Neku's a complete _sap_.

Under a thunderstorm, Joshua stands in front of the new mural. He’s cast a barrier to protect it from any blemish, any bad intention. It grounds him, keeps his focus away from everything else for a while. 

The streets flicker, an interlude to a swan song that never begins. He's beyond sick of it.

Inside Dead God’s Pad, Sanae greets him with whiskey.

“You are such a good influence on me.”

“I do what I can, boss.”

Joshua makes tendrils of light with his fingers. The fish below chase them around like cats playing tag. He drinks slowly and gags. Megumi had some bad taste, bless his soul. “Remind me to bring you your brewing supplies.”

“You’re in a good mood.” Sanae places one last card to complete his little sculpture of Shibuya.

He likes Sanae and his art's okay, but Neku's is magnetic, a cosmic pull achieved genuinely, no second intentions behind it.

“Did you know? You have some solid competition these days.”

“So I heard! I’d love to see it in person someday.”

“Listen... If I don’t make it, just in case... Take care of him. Of them. I don’t care what methods you use anymore, but give them some place to be. Make sure whoever follows me is kept in line.”

“For once something’s been telling me to sit back and trust the folks upstairs, but I’ll see what I can set up. Shinjuku might be comfy. I’ll just call their Composer and—”

“Don’t push it.”

Sanae smirks into his drink. “Never in my time would I have expected such selflessness from you, J. You’re a good kid.”

“Keep this up and your face will furnish the dartboard.” The light in his fingers goes out, and he falls back into the sofa. “'It's their world, right?' All of it, not just Shibuya. Letting them see it when I can’t, living vicariously through the proxy I got attached to... I’d hardly call that selfless.”

“You’re stickin’ your neck out something fierce to see him happy and safe, all without a second thought... That sorta madness has a name.”

 

* * *

 

Sleepless, sitting at the kitchen counter, Neku stares at the leftovers of the meals his parents made, nimono that’s grown cold for an hour. He busies his hands with his old Player Pin, a habit he’s kept completely in secret, when it hits.

He starts when his phone rings.

“Shiki? How are your holidays goin—”

“Neku! Please tell me you’re all right.”

“W-why? What’s going on?”

“You’re in Shibuya! Didn’t you hear, there was an explosion near the West Exit Terminal—”

His blood goes cold. Tripping over himself, he searches for the Pins he left all around the house, the ones he didn’t throw in the trash right after the Game in a sullen fit. In the depths of his closet, under the bed, in every drawer. He finds just enough to make a bad deck.

Life had collapsed all around him and only now he’s seeing it. The big picture.

Everything Joshua had done, everything adding up to this.

_The winner gets to be the Composer, and do whatever he likes with Shibuya. If you win, you decide. If I win, I'll decide._

All the things he’d done for Neku, ulterior motives be damned, bringing back people that didn’t have anything to do with his plans. The strange white Noise, those broken wings. The change in Shibuya, the change in his friends, everyone suddenly wanting to leave the place. The way he’d opened up, actually opened up and reached out. 

 _I need help_.

His feet move before his mind can catch them. His house was a shelter. Outside, a white cast of wind and rain leeches any warmth and color out of empty streets, a foreboded decay crawling all the way down to Shibuya 104, the Scrambling, Hachiko...

And of course, Neku’s the one left to feel like the asshole in this situation. So stupid, did he really need a Player Pin to figure it out, to read between the lines?

Joshua knew he was coming, of course. The eye of the hurricane, he sits serenely on the bridge above the Shibuya River.

“Where’s the explosion?!” He didn’t have time to stop and see if there’s smoke, but there’s a commotion of people on the other side of the terminal.

A snort. “ _What_ are you talking about?”

“You sonnova— stop this! People are in danger and all this time you’ve been playing with our heads. You’ve been Imprinting on us!” He’s sure his old Player Pin is not the reason it didn’t work on him.

A swarm of ink-black butterflies surrounds Joshua. They glow a heavenly white as they flock to his hands and are crushed into dust. “Quite the accusation to throw around.”   

“My parents... and my friends, they’re out of town for at least the following week. They’ve all talked about _moving_. You think I’m a moron? I know that’s not a coincidence!”

Violet eyes glare down. “You ‘know’?” Joshua’s voice is low. It throbs in Neku’s temples and for the first time in so very long, scares him. Then the mask slips back on. “Hee hee, that’s the fun part about Imprinting, isn’t it? You’re never truly sure whether it worked or not, or whose idea it was in the first place. Inspiration spreads so naturally... The wonders of the human unconscious at its finest.”

“Stop yapping for a sec and tell me. What do you _want_?”

“Why, Neku. You should know that I only want what’s best for you.”

“Don’t you?” He glowers, defiant. “If Shibuya goes then by extension you are gone along with it. So let me tell you just one thing.” He’s caught up, he’s wised up to the Schrödinger's Lie games, and he hopes it’s not too late because Joshua, a murderer, is also suicidal, go figure. “If you’re trying to make _me_ leave, you’re out of luck. I’m helping you.”

The ground shakes. The dissonance surges. Nails on a chalkboard, the screech of a mic pressed to a loudspeaker, the taste of rust and blood in his throat, he shakes it all off, taking off after Joshua before he’s out of his sight.

 

* * *

  

It’s not that his powers are withering away, it’s that Joshua is magnanimous enough to fly with faulty wings instead of teleporting away. Otherwise, who will be there to watch Neku uselessly trail behind?

The Underground leaks into the Realground. Rolling thunder, screams, panic, it all fades in and out, buildings and streets devoid of sound and then full again, the screens on the Scramble blinking on and off. Small parts of the scenery have been gnawed away and started to fade, like a burning page out of a huge picture book, gradually turning into ashes.

“—into the exact cause of the accident. Currently, the death toll stands—”

“ _What?!_ Why the hell is this happening?!” Neku leaps to cross a chasm left by disappearing ground. He misses, but Joshua takes his hand and pulls. He stands again on trembling legs, stumbling, skidding into broken, wet pavement, trying to refocus and keep up. “Is this the real— ground? I thought— I thought Shibuya would be safe.”

Shibuya’s music is locked into a nocturne, a quiet, faraway omen to the end that extends outwards only to echo back at him, an endless feedback loop. He can’t bring himself to care anymore.

A flash of lightning. “Why? Because of you? What a way to glorify yourself.”

“I... People are—" Still airborne, Joshua tugs hard on Neku's arm to make him tear his gaze from people huddling around the remains of a car crash near Center Street. " _Please—_ at least— tell me— what the _hell_ we’re fighting against.”

In his mind, Joshua combs the city for what’s left of his Reapers. Most have fled, some were erased. Cornered against a fence in Miyashita Park, Kariya takes the brunt of a near-fatal blow. Yashiro clutches his hand like a lifeline as they fly away, whispering ‘thank you,’ the first time she’s cried near him.

Joshua nudges Neku's thoughts away from the sight of a pool of blood outside a row of small, collapsed stores near Towa Records. He stops and hovers before floating back to the floor. “It’s an amusing story. These are pesky knockoffs, catching up to me from the past.”

Moving along this chaos, sirens booming and blaring somewhere, Neku turns to him and listens. Looks and listens as if Joshua’s the only person left.

So, concentrating on running to the unsteady beat of Neku's heart, Joshua looks into his eyes and indulges him... “Normal Noise, even Taboo ones, are ants. These ones, they’re at my level. They have the same power over Shibuya as I do, since they’re born from my own Soul.”

Blocks away from a dark, empty Cat Street, dodging clouds of spears and crosses and feathers, his back is slammed against the wall between Shibuya and Minato. It singes his skin, but for a second he remembers he’s not alone, and the world seems to get a little bit bigger. Because however late, he managed to find it, the reason the caged bird sings.

“You see, once upon a time, I made a sacrifice, to hold the key to Shibuya...”

A flurry of butterflies and doves bringing down rains of metal and cold light. Neku focuses, _Carcin_ ; _Black Sky, White Bolt_. Joshua hovers over him, wings held up, and finishes them before Neku can move. Vision swimming, he chuckles. “The key to my own prison. I was thrilled, leaving it all behind... My sadness, my guilt and remorse, my ability to be hurt...”

A spike of energy at Yoyogi Park. He takes Neku’s hand and blinks them up north to the site. The area is completely deserted, rows of cherry blossoms bending in the storm, shedding the last of their petals. He staggers forward and continues, “but all of that, it was never truly gone. It lived, locked away to be fed with each mistake I made, each failure in judgment, each wound I inflicted...” He trails off, allowing Neku’s words to come out.

“I forgive you.”

The words still burn, and he still claws his fingers into his own skin in response, sends a blast of energy in warning. Behind him, Neku gets up, runs a shaky finger reflexively along a Cure Drink. The Noise is an amalgam of white poison, rising up, the smell of sinew and scales and feathers flexing and towering over Shibuya’s buildings.

“Joshua, it’s okay. I forgive you. Does that help any?”

Time’s run out, this is what he gets risking everything for this self-righteous idiot, and how can he allow himself to feel, to clash, to change any more than he already has? “My Noise will destroy you, and I won’t be able to bring you back anymore. Leave Shibuya, now.”

“And watch it die from afar?! Are you crazy?!”

The Noise slithers, tramples closer. They all but lured it to the place by coming here. Neku keeps feeding it and he can’t see it, can’t think straight. “Make a Pact with me! Josh, come on, do something! You wanted my help, what do I do? Together, we can—”

Joshua lunges at him. Pins him to a tree, throws his whole power into the motion. Traps him with his arms, his wings, his eyes.

“I've done enough for you. I own you, and you will do as I say. You will _not_ get close to me!”

_You are already there, already inside, past every wall and shield. The only one who could have possibly managed to get in this deep and come out unscathed, reborn._

Neku’s eyes are pleading.

“Your life is precious, Josh. Don’t just throw it away...”

Petals stick to Joshua’s cheek. With a warm hand, Neku reaches to brush them off but his hand stays there. He runs a finger to wipe away the tears before they’re out, and Joshua’s about to disappear.

In another time he might have made the absurd choice to get caught in the moment, to use the last of his strength to kill him, or kiss him, a crash to finally meet him halfway while the sky burned white. Right here and now, this is where it cuts off, all of his foresight amounting to this. Neku needs to live, so Joshua thrusts him away from his world.

 

* * *

 

Neku wakes up, stranded at an intersection. He gets up and runs, no time to think, bumps into people and cars gathered around him below a huge ring of metal—Shinjuku, this is Shinjuku. The blur of traffic lights, headlights and streetlights passes him by in the dark as he turns and turns to try to figure out the maze of roads, as he runs and his feet crack under the weight while Shibuya seems farther and farther away the closer he gets to it.

All the way from where he starts he can feel the shockwaves. They guide him until it’s too many minutes too late. Piercing light in a void, blocked by the thin blue screen of hexagons. Joshua’s gone this time, he knows, he _knows_ , fragments of a jumbled melody, a wind chime in the rain.

Neku steps inside.

Shibuya’s there. The buildings, their geometry, faint gray outlines of varying shapes full of nothing. The streets, crude drawings in chalk with trembling lines resembling trees. A stark white horizon, a black sky for a lid.

Colorless. Soundless.

Time stops.

A high pitch in his brain threatens to split his body in half. The weight of infinite wings falls on him.

 _Help_ , he says to no one.

**_“Neku Sakuraba, We have been watching you.”_ **

_Please help_

**_“Fate and chance have converged to help you best Shibuya’s Composer._ **

_It’s my fault, isn’t it? What do I do? Joshua’s gone, he’s gone he’s gone because of me what can I even do_

**_“To take his place, a sacrifice must be made. This entry fee will yield your key to Shibuya. Neku Sakuraba, do you accept this?”_ **

_Yes, please, please, yes, just, just **help me bring him back**_

The pitch amps up and breaks him.

**_“As expected.”_ **

For a moment he goes deaf. He remembers his city, imagines it to the last detail, the things he has known or never known. And then it seeps into him, note by note, a rhapsody that sears his body from the inside out. His consciousness flutters, unfurls like wings, envelops every single heartbeat in Shibuya, every idea, a myriad of promises and what-ifs, a constant reminder of life.

His form is bigger now, made of thought and energy, a flame blazing a bright amber.

He envisions the Noise, curling around the tops of the trees, and goes in for the kill.

Rage ups his tempo, burns in his veins, moves him to shoot, slash, cast, lift and throw the world around, wielding matter and antimatter, pulsing and blasting. He’ll tear the sky, drop the fucking Sun, raze it all off, if it means starting over.

But when the Noise congeals into a smaller form, when it takes on _his_ face, Neku stops mid Irregular Note.

The Noise, the image of a little boy, the picture of a human before thoughts of death and Reapers and the cries of a whole city consumed his life, closes his eyes and waits.

Neku’s fire is snuffed out. He turns down the frequency to mirror the Noise, puts his feet back on the ground. As it scatters, he kneels down to reach out in a hug.

He panics, and through a combination of sheer instinct and determination, gets to work. Gathers countless tiny crystals, puts the jigsaw puzzle of his Soul back together, joins every dot, mends and fine-tunes and harmonizes. A small eternity after, it all comes into place and he understands...

_It starts with a feeling, a thought: “Why can’t I make friends...?”_

_Loneliness._

_It’s innocent enough until it snowballs. It festers and there’s no respite. It morphs into an endless mass of dissonance, of layers upon layers of resentment, arrogance, righteousness, contempt. Lies to protect a fragile ego._

_Utter hate for life._

_A window into another world, the promise of a fresh start, of being seen and adored, of finally leaving his mark, his memory, somewhere._

_Death by his own hand. Shedding one’s humanity like an old coat and with that, the realization that it was but a mistake, that he’s made everything worse._

_That years and years later, he’s empty and trapped._

_Another soul calling to him. A boy just as lonely. An unusual, fleeting friendship, real at its core, but plagued with lies, built on a shared revulsion, for themselves, for everyone else._

_‘Let’s meet at Udagawa tomorrow, okay?’_

_A shaky smile. ‘Sure. See you there.’_

Joshua had made a mess out of his memories. Neku’s best friend didn’t die then in an accident—he’d been dead from the start. About to betray him by gunshot.

And yet in his own twisted way, Joshua had considered him a friend.

And Neku trusted him. Trusts him still, always. Because, after all, he understands. He would have done exactly the same in his place.

 

* * *

 

The rustle of trees. Joshua dreamt he was in love. Hazily, he sees a boy’s face looking down at him. His expression is stern but his features are soft, haloed by the light filtering through the umbrella of leaves above. Joshua gazes into big blue eyes to the sound of petals in the wind.

He gets lost in a song. The chime of a music box that soothes and embraces him, carries him away in a whisper...

Then he forgets. When he comes to, he gasps for air. The silence is crushing, the afterimage of a cacophony.

He’s been unplugged, left in a limbo, that jolt before sleep, before wakefulness. Is he dreaming? He’s in a bed. He sits up so fast he feels the blood— _blood, flesh, bones, just that, no powers, no light or static or wings or music to hide behind_ —rush to his head, pounding. His body wants to vibrate at Shibuya’s exact frequency, too high and entirely out of his reach, and it leaves him shaking.

He’s in the hospital. White room, white bedsheets, the colors outside the window running dull.

Why isn’t he gone?

“How’s life treatin’ ya, Josh?” Sanae asks, casually entering the room. Joshua is tugging hard at the IV in his arm and Sanae jumps at the sight of blood. “Woah, easy there! That’s kind of a brand new body you got. Be kind to it.”

“I was supposed to be _erased_!” His voice cracks, hoarse and raw like he’s been mute for years.

Sanae frowns. “That’s usually how it goes, yeah, but would you rather, really?” Joshua can’t stop touching his own skin. “Look, any more’s classified, but it turns out there’s someone up there who cares about you a whole lot. Call it fate or chance, just let it be.”

He gives Joshua the cheapest coffee from the Outback downstairs and hands him a stack of papers to sign.

Sanae Hanekoma is officially his foster parent.

Joshua takes a sip and, with help, goes dry-heave in the bathroom.

He screams into his pillow every day for a week. Then he’s discharged. Thrown out into the world.

 

* * *

 

It’s draining work, being Composer. It’s being the Mayor, architect, nanny and janitor of Shibuya all in one.

Neku learns the meaning of diplomacy in a way he never would have thought.

To clean up the loose ends he has to direct every Reaper below him to brainwash any witness to the supernatural by strong Imprinting. The harder cases he takes on himself. He has to contact the adjacent Composers, to retroactively wipe the monsters and glitches out of the newscasts and viral videos and replace them with earthquakes and gas leaks and faulty constructions and power outages. Lies, diversions, distractions. Re-framing and resetting events. With every person a viewpoint, with every action a branching universe, there’s no way to reach a compromise without bending space-time and people’s minds. And even then he’s not really in control, merely shifting the flow of the city away from mass panic.

He’s gained a newfound respect for Joshua.

There were around forty casualties. In the span of the two or so months it’s taken to begin to rebuild Shibuya’s Realground and Underground there’s one Game, but Neku immediately fits them all in as Players, doing whatever he can to hold their hands throughout it. In the end they all win. The results are a considerable amount of reincarnations and new Reaper recruits. Since then he’s had no shortage of opinions from his Conductors, Kariya and Yashiro. From Kariya, that these are some happy days and all, but that he’d rather go back to his Harrier job soon, thank you very much; from Yashiro, that this Easy Mode of a Game is a joke, a terrible stain on Shibuya’s flawless record.

As composed as he can Neku tells them to suck it. It’s his first Game; he’ll figure things out as they come and Easy Mode isn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

On his first day off in a while he walks around Shibuya, drowning in its music. This new perspective is welcome, the re-discovering of an old favorite song while wistfully humming along.

Before realizing it, something calls him to his own mural. At first sight it looks the same. Surprisingly unmarred, even. But pieces of another Soul spill from it—a tiny little message, nigh invisible, tucked away in between sweeps of paint at an upper corner. However small, its handwriting is obvious, its meaning sincere. 

_‘You’re everything.'_

He laughs. “So much for not vandalizing my art, you asshole.”

Upon fixing Joshua’s Soul Neku Imprinted codes on him that he thought might be useful. “ _Life is worth it,” “no one’s ever alone,”_ and... those three stupid words that are best when left unspoken, tucked away in the deepest recesses of Joshua’s heart. This one he was especially careful with.

The long, sleepless nights, turning and tossing around in bed before having to get up for school haven't stopped. The ache behind his rib cage while spending time with his parents and realizing that he's never going to be able to speak a word about this, that he's going to keep drifting away from them until he has to pretend he's moving out of Shibuya for college... that's here to stay.

But it's been two and a half months, and he’s proud to say he's finally stopped crying. 

The price for his key to Shibuya, his connection to his friends, meant he had to rewrite the script. A reality in which none of them ever knew Neku Sakuraba was hard to deal with, in the beginning. But entry fees... they’re never truly gone, right?

The very first thing he did was leave his headphones on Joshua’s bedside table at the hospital. Neku wasn’t using them anyway, Shibuya's sounds too overwhelming to pretend he wants more noise in his head. He begged for Mr. H to be freed, to have him around as his Producer.

“Take care of him,” Neku told him.

“Why, it’s what I do best!” Overpriced coffee had never felt warmer. “You two really are cut from the same cloth. Don’t worry, knowing him, he’ll figure it out in a day...”

And so the story goes that Joshua, the Composer who had played his own Reaper’s Game to decide Shibuya’s fate, his own fate, had entered his Game alone. Had started at Hachiko, finding a partner in Shiki Misaki. Finding the strength to live again in his friends.

The lines blur until it goes pretty much the same, with just a tiny missing link, a missing week, a missing proxy.

There’s probably a glitch out there in the universe that will make them all be his friends again. Like the glitch that makes Eri hug Shiki out of the blue in an outburst of nostalgia for a goodbye that Eri has no memory of. The glitch that made Rhyme push Beat out of harm’s way, unthinkingly, a parallel of the past.

Sometimes Neku watches them around the city and follows their conversations. This time, after so long of planning to get together, they’re all there, the five of them on a clear morning at Hachiko.

He can’t stop staring at Joshua. Purple headphones suit him, hair catching the sunlight in a pale glimmer, more vivid than Neku can remember. Eri, Shiki, Beat and Rhyme notice it too.

“Hey, stranger! You look good today!”

“Oh, _there’s_ our spicy tuna roll! How are you?”

“Long time no see, Phones! Why so long?”

“Wanna go get lunch? It’s a beautiful day.”

For a little bit Neku can’t help tagging along, unseen, to Ramen Don.

“You were in the hospital?! Why didn’t you tell us?”

“You’re only human... You deserve a break. We should plan for a trip...”

“...‘Least you’re alive, man. Tha’s what counts.”

“Yup. The future’s a blank canvas. Your life paints the words.”

“Awww, I’m touched. I’m sick for a week and you’re this worried? What an honor.”

Joshua grins and laughs over ramen. Much later, when they part for the day he hugs everyone back. He heads back to his new home, smiling like nobody’s watching.

It’s worth it.

As long as he’s like this, Neku will make sure this little spot of sky over him shines a bit brighter, if only to one-up him.

Joshua stops. He brings his hands to his headphones and closes his eyes.

From atop a building, Neku freezes. Joshua turns around, looks up to where he is and Neku almost flies away, but then their eyes _meet_ and— for a second, for just one second, Joshua smiles that new, honest smile at _him_.

 

Shibuya’s music swells and its Composer cries, enough tears to flood the Rubicon. 

 


End file.
